


A Tear in My Heart (and you're to blame)

by thinker1357



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce is also Owlman, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dimension Travel, Gen, Little!Tim, No proofreading- we die like mne, Past Child Abuse, Relearning how to have a family, So bad at updating, Teenager!Jason, changed my mind, dick isn't a vigilante, its not really an injustice league dimension, more like a forever evil dimension, very very ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinker1357/pseuds/thinker1357
Summary: "The sun seemed brighter, Dick mused to himself as he walked through the streets of Gotham. If he tilted his head and squinted, in the dawn lighting Gotham seemed to glow, making the view before him look almost pleasant. As pleasant as the road to his own death could be anyways.  But no, Dick averts his attention to a stall full of lavender, those types of thoughts are better left for lonely dark nights and he chooses instead to think of Alfred’s happy smile if he brought home a stalk of lavender for the new herb garden the butler was planting."Or where Dick finds himself in another universe and has no idea how to react to the love and affection he receives.





	1. sometimes the messages cannot be ignored

The sun seemed brighter, Dick mused to himself as he walked through the streets of Gotham. If he tilted his head and squinted, in the dawn lighting Gotham seemed to glow, making the view before him look almost pleasant. As pleasant as the road to his own death could be anyways.  But no, Dick averts his attention to a stall full of lavender, those types of thoughts are better left for lonely dark nights and he chooses instead to think of Alfred’s happy smile if he brought home a stalk of lavender for the new herb garden the butler was planting.

Blood stains his clothes and hands, creating a trail along the walls of the buildings he leans on for support. From the corner of his eyes he can see the disgusted faces of the people who pass by him. None are shocked at his state, only annoyed. After all, in Gotham this is a normal sight.

His knees are ready to buckle but he ignores those and keeps walking. _Pain is just a message, you can always ignore it_ , he repeats to himself. The mantra doesn’t numb the pain but it helps him focus.

_Pain -_ **Step** - _Is Just -_ **Step** _-A message, -_ **Step** _-You can -_ **Step** _-Always -_ **Step** _-Ignore it._

By the time Dick reaches the front steps of the manor the mantra has become one with the mush he’s sure his brain is made of and the words sound incoherent even in his own mind. _It’s fine,_ he thinks to himself, he’ll either be dead or knocked out in the next minute. Either way he won’t have to feel pain and that’s what matters.

The stairs up the manor’s porch seem to take forever to climb ad by the time he’s at the top the edges of his vision are already begin to black out. The last thing he sees is the concerned face of Alfred before darkness completely overtakes him and gravity pulls him down.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Who is he?” Tim whispers to Alfred. His tiny hands twisting around the tails of the older man’s coat as he cautiously peeked out from behind the butler to stare at the prone figure lying on the bed.

“We are uncertain as of now, Master Timothy. However, I am sure your father will have the answers soon, he has already begun doing tests down in the cave.” Alfred sighs, as he wipes the last blood stain off the face of the man, returning the towel to a bowl of cool water. He collected the bowl along with the pile of clothes that he had removed from unconscious man and walked out of the room, the 8-year-old following after him still clutching on to his coat.

“He knew your name.” Tim whispered to himself, not meaning for Alfred to hear. Never the less, the butler’s sharp ears still caught on to the words.

“Yes, he did know my name, which is at the least… worrisome. But it is master Bruce’s job to investigate these things. Your job here is to enjoy your youth while you still can; so put all thoughts of this mystery out of your mind young master.” The butler reassured the child as he continued on his way to the laundry room.

“But Alfredddd….” Tim whined, pouting.

“None of that nonsense, go distract your older brother if you truly have no other responsibilities… Or I can give you more division practice worksheets to do instead.” Alfred slyly tacked on, knowing that the youngest master of the house hated division with a passion.

“Ewwww… anything but that Alfie.”


	2. Karma can be a bitch

The first thing Dick notices when he begins to float to the consciousness is the soft humming of a lullaby. He feels tears beginning to prick at his eyes and squeezes his eyes in a vain attempt to hold them back. Tears will only infuriate him more, it’s better to just take his punishment as it is rather than asking for pity.

Before his eyes are even completely open, he’s already sliding off the bed landing on his knees, bent over, waiting for the first whip lash. Minutes seemed to pass, but nothing happen, he feels the pressure of eyes on him and he’s too terrified too even breathe.

He’s been through this so many times he should be used to the it by now. He should be able to look Bruce in the eye and spit on his face. He should be able to laugh in the face of the man that haunted his dreams and tell him to take his best shot because he’s already broken, been broken since he was eight. He should…. but he can’t.

Because he’s a _fucking coward_.

The sound of shuffling reaches his ears and Dick’s thoughts come to a stutter as his world stops on its axis.

 _God, let this be quick and merciful_ , he prays with his eyes shut as tightly as he can.  His entire body tenses, ready to flee the situation even though his mind knows he can’t. The shuffling stops just above him.

“Uhhhh… are you okay?”

Those words are totally unexpected, and Dick can’t help but open his eyes and take a glimpse at the person hovering above him only to shoot backward when he realized that it was, in fact, not Bruce standing in front of him and instead a boy. Dick felt a hysterical laugh build up in his chest and he pushed it down for another time, choosing instead to examine the child before him. Dark black hair with eyes that shifted from blue to green.  He looked exactly like Bruce’s usual M.O.

The boy nervously shifted, pointing his feet towards the door as he stared at Dick. “Listen, let me get Bruce, alright. He’ll explain things to you.” The boy stutters, and Dick wants to believe that this isn’t a trick. That he isn’t being tested.

_But he knows better now._

Within the blink of an eye, Dick has the younger boy pressed against the wall, hands clawing desperately at the arm crushing his neck. While Dick never got any formal training in anything, the years he’s spent by Bruce’s side have taught him a thing or two.

“Where am I?” Dick growls.

“Wa…. Wayne… Manor” the boy manages to struggle out, his eyes wide in fear.

“Don’t play with me kid” Dick sneers. “I know my history, Wayne Manor was destroyed years ago, there’s nothing but rubble there. Where. Am. I.” Dick asks again, each word accented by the addition of more pressure to the fragile neck under his arm. He doesn’t _want_ to hurt the boy but if he doesn’t give Dick the right answer soon, that might be the only choice. It’ll just be another stone of guilt on his vastly growing mountain.

But before he can even think of another threat, the door slams open and suddenly, he’s the one pressed against the wall with an arm against the back of his neck as his face is squished into the wall.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

From the corner of his eye he sees the boy being escorted out of the room by an elderly man. An elderly man that looks like Alfred. An Alfred that wears expensive suits and bowties instead of the shorts and Hawaiian shirts Dick usually sees him in.  

_Wait, what._

Before he can fully process the thoughts that begin flying around his head, he’s being spun around to face his attacker.

The face he sees is as impassive and recognizable as ever, but it’s younger, rid of all the scars and the maniac look that glinted in his eyes usually.

It’s Bruce. But it’s not his Bruce.

“Who… are… you” Dick manages to rasp out against the hand choking him. Again, he wants to laugh at the similarity between his situation and how he had treated the boy. _Karma’s a bitch._

“You don’t ask the questions here.” The man above him calmly responds, and suddenly he’s a child again, hearing the same words from the same mouth twisted up into a sick grin with blood covering it's lips, Dick’s blood, and the burning sensation of a hot knife being dragged down Dick’s arm.

The memory left as soon as it came and Dick made no physical reaction to it, save for widening his eyes. The Bruce in front of him must have took that as a threat because not a moment later he felt a pinch at his neck and everything went black again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy! 2 updates in one week, I'm on a roll here. So i came up with a plotline, a functional potline, and lemme tell you this is not going to be a kiddie ride at all. Im actually really excited about this fic cuz this the first time im writing a story with such a dark plot and im anxious to see how it'll go. comment and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I should be studying for my AP Bio test, instead im here writing a new story. I am the procrastinator. sorry this chapter's so short but i don't want to give too much away yet.


End file.
